


eternal dream, the deepest abyss

by corrupted_voracity



Series: topgoro week │ january 2021 [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Persona 5 Protagonist, Double Anal Penetration, Emotional Manipulation, Light Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Rough & Gentle Sex?, Rough Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Akechi Goro, Two cognitive Akechis cooperating and fighting with each other over Akira, non-sexual foot massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrupted_voracity/pseuds/corrupted_voracity
Summary: “To put it in very simplified terms,”Maruki slowly says, voice lowering to a mellow, empathetic tone as if he understands,“you want a love that touches your heart, but a passion that craves it. Am I wrong?”Akira refuses to believe two cognitions wearing Akechi’s face is going to fix anything, but Maruki’s adamant on proving him wrong.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Cognitive Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: topgoro week │ january 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093454
Comments: 16
Kudos: 175
Collections: TopGoroWeek #1 2021





	eternal dream, the deepest abyss

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest piece in the series so far haha *sweats*
> 
> **Again, please read the tags!**  
> 
> 
> It'd argue it's almost consensual if not for the bits of emotional manipulation going on. A petname used is kitten, just as a warning.
> 
> I forgot to mention this in my first installment of the series but huuuuge kudos to [Lolo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLotus/pseuds/LovelyLotus) for being there and supporting me so much nghgh I love you
> 
> (Tbh I'm not satisfied with the edits so I'll look over this again another time)
> 
>   
>  _For the sake of the bit of plot, we'll go with the more common theory that Akechi is Akira's wish._
> 
> **Day 2: Detective Prince VS Black Mask // Double Penetration**

When Akira opens his eyes, he’s in a white room with an equally white bed in the middle.

It reminds him of snow.

The lights are dimmer than anywhere else in Maruki’s palace, but it’s mild relief and does little to ease his nerves.

Akira turns to take in the unfamiliar space – there’s no door to be found, meaning that he really did get teleported into an entirely different area after giving up his mask to one of Maruki’s deceivingly peaceful shadows.

A second wish, huh?

He wonders where the other’s are; if they ended up in a similar setting or a completely different one.

Akira would have answered that question confidently about a month ago. He watched each of his friends grow after all, helping them break out of their own shackles while he stood by the sidelines, feeling nothing but pride and love and admiration for who they became.

All it ever needed was a slight push, a carefully woven sentence at the right time.

The rest was always up to them, and they’d never disappointed Akira once. 

So Akira thought he understood them. How their minds work, the actions they’d take even in unfamiliar situations. 

It’s what he _needed_ to get behind in order to guide them through both combat and reality when a firm hand was required to unite not only their overlapping ideals, but also their clashing personalities into one goal.

The Phantom Thieves advanced from a brittle contraption forged by initially weak convictions to a precious bond few could call their own.

And it’s not like Akira _doesn’t_ understand them anymore, but transitioning into Maruki’s utopia patchwork reality and seeing the extent of their wishes was something he hadn’t expected.

It revealed corners and edges he never knew existed before, morphing a familiar sight into something vaguely foreign that had him feeling uncomfortable. 

Out of the loop. Unwelcome. 

Akira's been on the other side of the scale, exposed to what's possible when one chose to avert their eyes.

Now that he’s gained his initial playing field back, things just aren't the same anymore.

To see each of his trusted confidants happy without him was… eye opening. Terrifying. It was a thought that never crossed Akira’s mind before.

Was it simply him being presumptuous?

Perhaps even arrogant?

After all, his friends _did_ manage to break out of Maruki’s influence and admitted they’ve been blinded by blissful ignorance.

But- why?

Why did their reality contain a happy ending witho-

…

..

.

Akira shakes his head.

He’s being unreasonable and selfish. Maruki’s reality exploits where hearts bleed the most. Perhaps it was even Maruki’s intention in the first place.

The fact that Akira’s harboring and entertaining these thoughts is just another proof for that; he can’t possibly fault his friends for anything.

A bitterness lies on his tongue. He’s gone over this so many times and still finds himself worked up over this. It makes the guilt churn even more in his stomach, the ugly monster he’s been trying to tame ever since he transitioned into a perfect reality rearing its head. 

Akira takes a few steps further inside order to distract himself from unpleasant thoughts – he needs to concentrate on more important matters right now, really –, the sound of his heels reverberating off the naked walls.

_“Akira-kun,”_ Maruki’s voice suddenly sounds, slightly distorted. Befitting of whatever place they’re in. _“Thank you for giving this a chance.”_

Akira whirls around to locate the source of it, but it seems to come from seemingly nowhere and everywhere around him at the same time.

“We didn’t really have much of an option,” he retorts coolly, slowly moving towards a corner to have a complete overview of the room. Just in case.

He doesn’t trust Maruki, not anymore.

_“But I can still appreciate your effort to convince your friends, can’t I? I know that not everyone was as receptive towards it as you.”_

Akira’s thoughts whirl him towards Akechi – who initially refused to give up his mask and persona just in order to _play one of Maruki’s manipulative little games,_ as he kindly put it.

Bitterness graspable through the restrictive sheen of a visor.

_“Now, let me explain the purpose of this room.”_

Maruki’s tone becomes gentler – it’s the same tone he used in their sessions, words coated in soothing calmness with a hint of quirkiness that would slip through at the worst possible times.

Which only played into his favor, really.

It worked so effectively once, coaxed Akira out of the shell where he usually kept his own problems to himself.

His friends already were storm clouds at the horizon - why add into that, why _burden_ others with his own demons? They had enough on their plate as it is. They didn’t need to see their leader as anything else but strong. 

The gentleness Maruki greets him with now practically dissects Akira, leaving him wide open and vulnerable in a way he hasn’t been before. 

The lack of his mask doesn’t help him, even if the rest of his attire is still _Joker_.

Akira feels anything but confident right now, so he begins to pace around the room, needing to do _something_ in the bizarre whiteness around him so he doesn't get lost in its monotone pattern that tempts him to close his eyes more often than not.

_“But first and foremost, I must apologize for the current manifestation of your wish.”_

… his wish?

_“It was very difficult to begin with, given the tragic circumstances that surrounded it,”_ Maruki explains. _“But it doesn’t excuse my sloppy work in the end, especially when I’ve been successful in making everyone else so happy that they ended up completely overlooking you. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I assure you they harbor no ill intent in their hearts.”_

The tips of Akira’s finger feel numb for various reasons that escape his mind.

Maruki sounds so genuine and regretful that he can’t bring himself to accuse him of lying, which would have been the easiest option. 

_“I also admit that the extent of your wish was more complex than I originally anticipated. Ah, don’t worry, Akira,”_ Maruki drones on. _“It’s one of the reasons why I like you so much – and precisely why I created this… obstacle, as your group earlier called it. I believe_ chance _is a better term for it. And it will not only correct my mistake, but it’ll also be another chance for everyone to reconsider. Emphasis on you, of course."_

Maruki sounds excited and happy at the same time, like he truly thinks he’s about to pay Akira back for all he’s so graciously _done_ for him and humanity, ignorant of how Akira truly felt about being used.

The result of their session hasn’t been twisted into a knife, but rather into a sick lullaby that is even harder to stomach. 

_“You're fascinating, Akira. Empathetic, forgiving, head-strong and resilient all in once. Yet a terrible invulnerability lies beneath those great points, doesn’t it? One you purposefully glossed over, and which in turn only worsened with time. And here we are. After everything you’ve done, after everything_ he’s _done, you still wish so desperately for a bond he wants to sever."_ Maruki exhales. _"I admire that.”_

The numbness spreads out to Akira's arms, encases his shoulder and chest to make way for ice. 

_“_ _But it was me who didn’t think further, who was satisfied with piecing the torn edges of his consciousness back together. I thought it was enough for you to see him again after all that happened, but your relief was short lived, immediately drowned in silent hurt as he continued to reject this reality. Continues to reject_ **_you_ ** _over and over again, even if his intentions are far from malicious. It was a miscalculation on my part.”_

There are so many implications in what Maruki just said. Terrible, terrible visions grow wings. Before Akira can watch them take off, Maruki continues, undeterred.

Something close to regret grounds his next sentences.

_“_ _I’ve made so many people happy. And to think I didn’t manage the same for the single person who was the very foundation, no, the guiding light of this research – unacceptable. It’s completely my fault you’re still suffering in a world where I promised to make everything better. Let me correct this now.”_

An almost impeccable shift goes through the room – the air feels charged with an unknown component, and Akira takes a small step back, body going rigid once more, breath hitching in wary apprehension.

Thinking of what Maruki _can't_ do might be easier than trying to list what he can.

_“Requited love is the most important factor here, isn’t it?”_ Maruki laughs. It's not condescending, but no less confusing. 

A few seconds of silence follow where Akira can practically _see_ the mixture of a frown and understanding smile unfold on Maruki’s face.

_“Please don’t be ashamed, Akira. That’s perfectly normal. But… ahh, this is interesting. You knew his detective façade was distorted even before he revealed himself, and yet you couldn’t help but crave the pleasant affection he showed you at times.”_

More rapid coldness grasps his heart.

“Are you- are you going through my _memories?”_ Akira breathes, exasperated, gripping his head as if it could prevent Maruki from tearing it open.

What else is Maruki able to see?

It’s so much worse than being physically attacked. For his privacy, for his deepest self to be penetrated like that with no way to defend himself-

Maruki’s answer comes fast and soothing. _“Gods, no. I do not possess such abilities, at least not when it comes to you. This room is channeling your deepest desire. I’m merely able to interpret and give it form – a better one than last time, I promise. Let me see.”_

Another pause in which Akira simply doesn’t know what to _do,_ heart beating relentlessly in his chest.

_“_ _To put it in very simplified terms,”_ Maruki slowly says, voice lowering to a mellow, empathetic tone as if he understands, _“you want a love that touches your heart, but a passion that craves it. Am I wrong?”_

Maruki doesn’t wait for an answer. 

Not that Akira could try and form one – his entire body has been frozen on the same spot for a while now, unable to breathe properly, translucent air fluttering around him in the mockery of a dance he can't participate in because he doesn't know the steps.

Didn’t have the opportunity to learn them.

The white warmth at seeing Akechi’s chivalrous behavior-

The black heat when witnessing Akechi’s visceral rage-

Akira’s thoughts race too fast for him to catch.

_“Your desires are more than reasonable, Akira, please don’t forget that. You’re allowed to have those, just like everyone else. And that’s not even considering how much you went through. Just like him. You’re the perfect match for each other, and that’s why it’s also hurting me to see you suffer like this.”_ Maruki pauses, contemplative. _“I think such a contradictory trait could technically co-exist within one person. However, divided – that makes it so much easier, don’t you think? Easier to keep track of as well."_

Divided? Just what is Maruki talking about?

Maruki cuckles as if he’s about to make a joke he knows no one will laugh at anyway.

_“_ _And what do they say? Two is always better than one. Let me make it up to you. I’ll show you what true happiness in my reality can look and feel like, Akira.”_

Akira senses Maruki’s ubiquitous presence retracting almost immediately. 

Finally having gained some resemblance of control back in his limbs, he turns his head to see what changed, what Maruki _did_ because Akira _still_ doesn't feel alone-

he has a terrible, terrible suspicion violently tearing its way out of his body, threatening to swallow him whole-

and two familiar faces greet him, standing several feet away from Akira.

Looking the same and alike and yet not.

Donned in two different Metaverse attires, two different Akechis stare back at him. Both of their masks are amiss, and that way nothing shields Akira from one affectionate, one ardent gaze framed by familiar strands of caramel.

Robin and Loki, Akira immediately dubs them in his mind because-

“You’re not Akechi,” he says to them and himself. His own voice is far less stable than he would like. It doesn’t deter them from slowly advancing on him, moving as if they were one unit. 

How much does Maruki really know if he’s able to perfectly replicate the princely white attire he shouldn’t have seen before?

What did he _do_ to Akechi?

“We aren’t,” Robin answers with a genuine, polite smile. The expression is so foreign, no clouds of malice distorting its edges that Akira takes a reflexive step back.

Akechi’ _s ne_ ver looked like that, not in his detective prime on TV whenever he’d given an especially pleasing answer, not when he caught the Phantom Thieves red-handed, lost in a fit of cruel laughter.

Their presence stretches across the entire room with each passing second, closes in, feeds on his. 

“But we can _be,”_ Loki adds with a smirk – the same one Akechi’s been using since he didn’t need to uphold his detective persona anymore, and yet it’s so much stronger, the very essence taken from a dark core.

They’re _not._

The fact that there are _two_ Akechis who refuse to look at him with undisputed dismissiveness already proves that they aren’t the same boy Akira’s been chasing the trail of for more than half a year.

Akira wants to run – where to? – but his limbs fail to heed the simplest of commands under the gracious spell Maruki bestowed him with. 

Then Akira’s trapped between two worlds – Robin in front of him, Loki behind him, leaving Akira what feels like only an inch to breathe. 

There’s something surreal about this predicament that doesn’t have to do with its circumstances. 

Akira _knows_ it isn’t real, that this is yet another, desperate attempt of Maruki to convince him- and yet it feels so tangent, _haptic,_ the two physical bodies pressing up against him with intent Akira hadn’t wanted to dream about on sweet summer nights where it had almost seemed obtainable. 

Akira’s hands are being lifted. He swallows, unable to avert his eyes from Robin’s face who looks at him with so much- with so much-

“Akechi wouldn’t do this,” Akira shakily tries as Robin leads his hand to his lips, kissing gloved knuckles. The touch bypasses the leather, leaves an imprint behind that soars through the entire surface of his skin and sets both nerves and butterflies on fire.

It’s maddening.

Robin closes his eyes, as if to fully submerge all of his senses in that small moment of contact. A gloved hand tentatively, almost shyly settles on his waist, and Akira’s knees grow weaker at the display of… devotion that unfolds in front of him. 

“Exactly,” Loki murmurs darkly from somewhere behind him.

A slight pressure on Akira’s other hand has him jerking his head to the side to find out what Loki is doing. Sharp teeth tug the edge of his red glove upwards, only to graze the revealed bits of Akira’s sensitive palm.

Loki’s hooded eyes gleam wickedly. Akira’s throat dries.

“He wouldn’t dare to do all this,” Loki repeats, settling his hand on the side of Akira’s waist that isn’t occupied. “Too deep in denial. Too _scared._ ”

It curls to mirror the other side, hot and possessive intent bleeding even through the sharp steel adorning each of Loki’s fingers, so different from Robin’s gentle, but no less firm hold.

This is nothing but contradictory. Them saying Akechi wouldn’t do this and yet insisting they can _be_ Akechi. It shouldn’t work, it shouldn’t get him like this.

It doesn’t make _sense._

Maruki himself indirectly explained what would happen, that these two are dolls stitched together by memories and what Maruki thinks is _best_ for Akira.

A chance for fabricated affection. 

But it doesn’t need to make sense in order to appeal to weaker emotions prone to manipulation, to feed off the deprivation that Akira had been warily nurturing behind reassuring smiles and glinting glasses.

It makes his traitorous thoughts stir, showing him the possibilities of _what if_ and Akira feels this atrocious desire blooming in the far edge of his consciousness that compels him to sink into their awaiting hold despite all sane reasoning.

To throw the efforts of an entire year away, only for… this. 

Robin presses their foreheads close, still thumbing over Akira’s knuckles in calm, precise motions. 

_His_ face is so impossibly close, looking so relaxed and content. No clock or words to rush him, no jarred history of a cruel fate forcing him to play reaper bearing hwhat he _could have been_ down. 

And like this, Akira’s able to take in every detail – how Robin’s… Akechi’s? Eyelashes are longer than they seem, dozens of soft, brown dots splayed across the bridge of his nose, shyly reaching his cheeks like the image of a reverse starry night. 

It’s something Akira never noticed before.

The knowledge of why and the sight itself _aches_ and Robin’s pretty enough for Akira to almost avert his gaze.

What keeps him trapped is the warmth that melts the usually frozen sea to tender garnet. 

“Don’t think too much, love,” Robin murmurs impossibly gentle.

The caress of a whisper.

_Love._

His breath fans over Akira’s lips, and he resists the instinct to dart out his tongue and taste forbidden air. “Give yourself to me.”

“To _us,”_ Loki quickly corrects, grazing the shell of Akira’s ear. 

"We'll take such good care of you."

Loki’s even closer now, nose and lips ghosting across Akira’s neck. One hand is splayed over his stomach, the other continuing to play with his red glove like it's an afterthought, a little game only the both of them are privy to. 

All while Loki’s completely pressed up against Akira's back, feeling so much… more _real_ than Akira thought him to be, body warmth seeping into him like melting clouds of darkness. 

A nearly inaudible whimper escapes his throat when one of Loki’s claws graze the divot on the side of his wrist. It's a sound both pick up if the brief pause in time is anything to go by, moment stretching beyond its concept.

How pathetic must Akira be to be so weak for simulated love? From two mere _cognitions_ no less just because they happen to wear the same face as the boy he loves, yet with such a contrasting demeanor that the difference is painstakingly obvious?

They aren’t him, no matter how they look like, no matter how they behave exactly like Akira thought Akechi would if-

Dread has never pooled quicker in his stomach, revealing ruptures of exacerbating guilt.

“No,” Akira presses out. Ice fights fire. His limbs finally stir and he uses what little control he just regained to try and free himself.

To be given something Akira already accepted he could never obtain, not in any form, not in any life-

“No. I can’t do this. Maruki, this is too much," he pleads. "This- this is a sick joke.”

It’s _torture._

It’s not Maruki who answers him.

“Akira,” Robin sighs against his lips, tightening his grip to keep the frightened lamb in place.

Akechi _never_ called him by his first name, rarely even uses his last. He omits it most of the time. If it’s unavoidable, he usually refers to him as Joker. 

Another barrier, another way to prevent connotations of any kind from budding between them for reasons Akira’s desperately tried to understand each time Akechi offers him the smallest of a smile. 

(He does, in a sense, and it hurts so he doesn’t like to think about it.)

It’s another indicator that none of this is real, and yet the call of his name has Akira shivering, his attempts for freedom quivering beneath the haunting timbre.

“Don't fight this," Robin murmurs. "Let us take away your pain."

"He's a fucking idiot for denying himself what’s rightfully his," Loki adds in a considerably snarkier tone, like Akechi's a completely different person. Which he is, Akira reminds himself. "But not with us, kitten. We'd treat you so well. Wouldn't you want that?"

_Kitten._

The term of endearment isn't something Akira expected. It slips right past his miserable efforts to uphold a front into his mind and makes the corner of his body throb with a need he doesn't dare to articulate, too afraid of the cracks he knows it’’ll bring.

Robin senses his faltering. He is quick to catch Akira’s chin and slowly aligns their gazes once more, keeping him ensnared.

"Don't you want to be good for us, love? We'll go beyond making you happy. We'll treasure you, give you all the love you deserve and so much more,” Robin says with a smile that would surely break so easily given how soft it is.

God, Akira _wants_ to be good, others people happiness is _his,_ but not like-

Loki's hand drifts higher, until it rests on the surface where Akira's rapidly beating heart restlessly presses against its confides. 

It's frighteningly intimate. Like he knows what lies beneath the layers of flesh, knows why it’s weak to irregular beats with only a simple touch and graze of lips. 

It’s further heightened by how suffocated Akira feels, two strong presences trying to drown him in beguiling intentions, all while so many _smaller_ sensations fight for his attention and keep his thoughts scattered.

Prickles on his wrist, imprints on his waist, lazy embers lapping at his clothes, trying to get under his skin, the guilt, the want, all flooding together that Akira’s unable to tell anything in the thick mist apart.

"Forget about him," Loki purrs. "Let go of yourself and we’ll catch you, kitten."

Loki's nuzzling his neck. Robin has started peppering soft kisses on Akira's jaw, and he feels both cold and hot at the same time, doesn’t know what to do with his body other than consciously witness the ache nestled deep inside his body reacting to their advances.

Forget? How can Akira f _orget_ about Akechi if they're wearing his face down to the smallest detail he didn’t know even existed?

How can Akira forget about him if he's the sole reason why he's in this predicament?

“Don’t,” Akira whispers, closing his eyes because the visual images become too much.

He’s a coward, he’s weak, he’s not _fighting, he’s not Joker,_ he’s _still_ in their hold and a despicable part of him wants to get even closer, revel in the heat of something transient.

Something he knows is ephemeral.

And yet-

The inkling suspicion that he might never get an opportunity like this mercilessly gnaws at his heart. It tempts him with cruel words that sink deeper than Akechi’s wrathful words in the boiling heat of an engine room. 

"Let's show him," Robin suggests.

"We'll make you forget," Loki agrees.

Akira’s eyes flutter open to see Robin lean forward – and when their lips meet, Robin steals something from him because Akira barely protests, only gasps into a fragmented dream that splinters like fallen ice.

While any current thoughts are overridden by the feeling of a soft mouth moving against his, Akira’s limbs are carefully directed, pushed backwards by guiding hands and assuring touches.

Robin disconnects their mouth once Akira’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and Akira wants to whine at the loss, but the smile playing on the lips _he_ just kissed is secretive and beautiful and something Akira never thought he’d get so see.

For good reason, a voice hisses, because-

“You’re so pretty,” Robin sighs, wistfully.

Akira flushes from head to toe, an irrational emotion prying his ribs open. 

Loki makes his presence known by pulling Akira with him onto the bed. Akira falls easily, scoots backwards so that his legs are bent perfectly over the edges.

The sheets are soft, rippling like water.

Robin begins to kneel in front of him, and the sight of Robin in his white, charming outfit in that particular position makes Akira’s cheek heat, a warmth that only increases when Robin sends him a secretive smile from below. He reaches for Akira’s boots.

“Don’t just focus on him,” Loki growls from behind Akira.

His tone carries a twinge of impatience, something that physically manifests in the way Akira’s black coat is hastily tugged down until it pools around his elbows.

It reminds Akira that they have different means for the same ending. 

Warm hands grip his shoulders next – without clawed gauntlets, Akira dimly notes – and a chest presses against Akira's back, legs caging his, so much closer now that they're both sitting. Akira’s only response is to lean back, base instinct responding slowly after they’ve been pushed into the back of his mind for so long. 

He sighs in the partial embrace, instinctively tilts his head to the side so it doesn’t bump against Loki’s due to their similar height. The other responds by humming approvingly, and brushes his mouth against the newly offered space of Akira’s throat. The vibrations ignite the skin on that side, forcing Akira to stifle a gasp.

Loki’s chest rumbles with amusement. It makes Akira acutely aware that only layers of cognitive clothing prevents their heated skins from meeting. 

“Hide for as long as you can, kitten,” Loki drawls. “We’ll drag out all kinds of sounds from you soon enough.”

The rasped promise leaves him a little breathless.

Fingers slide down Akira’s shoulder, working his vest open to gain access to more skin before trailing upwards again. They paint burns across their way, gripping his forearms possessively and kneading tired muscle.

A soft sensation meets the base of his sensitive neck – kisses are splayed across it, remarkably gentle for Loki's gip on him. Maybe that's why they're so effective, the knowledge of what they could, _want_ to do an open secret Akira only needs to reach out for to claim it for himself.

And he tries, tilting his head a little to offer more space, squirming when Loki rewards him by letting nips turn into sharper sucks.

While Akira’s trying to not grow too needy under the ministrations of Loki’s lips and hands, a different sensation calls for his attention.

He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until he opens them. White blinds him only a moment. Akira’s greeted with the sight of his own, clothed thighs, and he sluggishly follows the line from his legs downwards to find his feet bare, one encased by a white glove.

“Look at him,” Loki murmurs into his ear when Robin starts to softly knead the underside of Akira’s foot. “The charming prince on his knees. Only for you.”

It’s- it’s _soothing._ Akira doesn’t think it ever hurt, running and fighting in heeled boots, but now that he _does_ think about it, said appendages ache a little, and he whimpers as fingers carefully press into his sole to work the tension out. 

“Is this good?” Robin asks, an odd mix of sly and bashful. 

He scoots forwards, props a chin on Akira’s quivering knee, never ceasing his motions to intently watch Akira’s face contort into sweet relief as he works his deft fingers on his feet and toes, one hand gently circling his ankle to tilt it into favorable directions.

“Y-yes,” Akira manages to press out, melting further into Loki’s hold – Robin’s fingers work so well, applying just the right amount of tender pressure that forces Akira to bite back sounds that could be mistaken for something else in their setting. 

All while Robin’s watching him, looking so impossibly… _handsome._ Confident and bright, even as he’s kneeling on the floor, fingers around Akira’s foot and plucking one worry and problem at the time away, garnet eyes twinkling with promises.

Robin would make a wooden chair look like a throne.

Loki starts to free Akira out of his sleeves, coat pooling below his waist now. Akira’s arms feel heavy, as if the component for gravity has been tampered with, but Loki’s already claiming the newly revealed skin for himself.

Fingers roam over his arms, dip into the crevice of his elbow before gliding lower, leaving phantom bruises in their wake. Akira fists white sheets and a strong thigh not to tremble and tries not to concentrate on the growing hardness pressing against his lower back that sometimes grinds into him in seemingly lazy motions, but the faint zips of pleasure are hard to blend out. 

Loki kneads in time with Robin – Loki’s motions lacks the devoted and precise care Robin directs his fingers with, but there’s more strength behind them, something that grounds Akira and pulls him away from fully melting into Robin's hands.

It's dangerous, how at ease and relaxed Akira feels. His focus keeps on slipping, teasingly dancing away everytime he reaches out for it, only to be stolen by claws and gloves and faint chuckles. 

Loki splays his finger across Akira’s, forcing them to unclench. Teasingly pulls back, circles a wrist, only to drive his thumb into the middle of his palm, pressing down – hard.

Maybe Akira’s more susceptible due to the light bite from earlier, or maybe he’s just that desperate. The lazy, sensual heat wanting to be ignited within him has been parching him more and more with each gasp he held in the confines of his mouth – but the sensation that follows Loki’s action completely overwhelms Akira.

It's small, but it goes through his bones, fills the hollows within him until it settles into his stomach, coiling heavily to pull all awareness towards the point where Akechi pressed into with his thumb.

Akira moans, breathy and open, a sound wretched from depths he didn’t think would ever be explored.

He vaguely registers Robin’s eyes darkening in front of him – because of his reaction, because _Loki_ was the one to drive that out of Akira, not _him,_ he doesn’t know, maybe both _–_ and watches Robin drag his fingers through the space between Akira’s toes, the tips of leather grazing his underside next.

It makes Akira squirm in Loki’s hold, trying to burrow his head in a shoulder to hide his embarrassment stemming from various sources at once.

Not wanting to be outdone, Loki relinquishes his hold on one hand to rest across Akira’s chest, starting to roughly knead him even through the open fabric of his vest – and Akira is left panting between sensations spilling onto him like infinite droplets of rain, subjecting him to too much to concentrate on one matter for too long.

Akira grows warmer, his breath more ragged. He finds himself aching, the warm comfort their hands and bodies bring constantly teasing him with something distinctive Akira has trouble giving form, afraid to burst the bubble of dangerous comfort he’s wrapped in.

Yet greedy for more, aching, wanting.

“I want-” Akira ends in a breathless sound Loki elicits out of him.

He’s working both of his hands on Akira’s front now, skimming his chest, teasingly diving lower to a fluttering abdomen while Robin has advanced to his lower calves, kneading and pressing in a manner that reduces his brain to mush he has to wade through in order to form words.

Akira grips the sheets again, terribly aware of the terrible tingle inside his palm.

He’s- already half-hard, he feels so warm, so good-

“What do you want, kitten?” Loki whispers against the shell of his ear, moist breath fanning over and into it. “Don’t be shy. Tell us.”

Akira’s cheeks flush again. Maybe the red never left in the first place.

“I-I want-”

Admitting it feels like sin. 

“I want you to touch me,” Akira breathes out. 

Teeth graze the back of Akira's neck, lips pulled into a devious smirk. 

“We are,” Robin murmurs against the side of his knee. He smiles so sincerely that Akira can't tell if he answered genuinely or ironically. 

“I mean-” Flustered, Akira averts his gaze. 

“I want you. Just- you.”

Akira doesn’t specify anything else, too flustered with their penetrative eyes.

He feels so good in their hold – but he wants more. Just a tiny little more. Drink as much as he can in this lapse of judgement where time stands still before it slips through his fingers and he has to adorn the coat of strong and invulnerable Joker again.

It’s selfish, so horribly selfish, but Akira wants to revel in a thought he polished with guilt every night, only to stash away its brilliance. 

He feels powerless in this very moment, his conscience a distant throb in the back of his mind, patiently worked away with each murmur caressing his ear. 

It's an exhilarating feeling. 

Robin’s and Loki’s laugh resonate, two different pieces of music that shouldn’t fit this well together.

“Oh, Akira. So innocent.”

“Makes me want to devour you.”

Maybe even addictive, letting them dismantle his layers until he's nothing but a raw, bleeding heart, theirs to admire. 

As Robin pulls back, Loki nudges his side, and Akira momentarily sacrifices Loki’s warmth to scoot forward. He turns so that he’s on all fours near the edge of the bed, and his feet are slightly dangling over it.

Loki is leisurely stretched out in some distance away. A beckoning gaze has Akira crawl forwards until he’s hovering above him with shy anticipation, all of his limbs tingling. 

Lured in, ensnared by fantasies escaping him at a rapid pace. 

Loki’s eyes are just a bit darker than Robin’s, less shining, more glinting.

A little bit of the side of unpredictable. 

Loki’s wild strands of light brown are splayed across the sheets, and the lines of his eyebrows and mouth curl into something more daring, befitting of the hard shadows his outfit consists of.

By his gaze alone Loki just seems to _know_ so much more as he reaches out for Akira.

There are a pair of hands tentatively settling on his backside, grazing his tailcoats and removing the clothing entirely, but Akira doesn’t have time to further concentrate on that because Loki’s pulling him down to let their lips meet.

He- he distantly knows this isn’t Akechi, but the fact that Loki is wearing his face and doing something Akira had always feared to entertain – it sends Akira’s mind reeling, down into the rabbit hole he doesn’t dare to chase after.

Not now.

Not when he can have this for himself, if only just for a transient memory, a dream gone ablaze.

Loki kisses him like Akira envisioned he would – harsh, ruthless, not giving him much time to re-calibrate his thoughts. Different from sweet Robin. Tilting Akira’s head to his liking, claiming his mouth with a possessiveness that Akira instinctively submits to, always wanted to have.

He idly wonders how much of his cognition, if his own perception and pathetic hopes give this shape.

Maybe it's all playing inside of his head, and his actual body is lying in white space alone, blissfully experiencing a dream it's always wanted to have. 

Akira entangles his fingers in Loki’s hair. He marvels at the softness for a precious moment, and then sighs into a hot and open mouth when Robin pulls his pants down, leaving him in his partially open vest only. 

Firm kneads caress Akira's backside for a short while before fingers drive lower, tracing a pattern unknown to him onto the back of his thighs.

It's so soft, and yet the sensation of gloves against his skin there has him arching his back with a wild shudder. The motion would have forced him to break the kiss if it wouldn’t be for Loki’s rapacity, hands tighten around Akira's neck and hair, earning another mewl Loki eagerly swallows with a hungry sound of himself. 

“God, stop playing with kitten and prep him already,” Loki growls the moment he lets Akira catch a downtime.

His lips feel raw from how many times they’ve been bitten and sucked on. Akira drops his head, resting it against a strong shoulder to catch his breath. Each throb of his lips another droplet of arousal spilling into his guts. 

The position he’s in is vulnerable, upper body resting on Loki’s, lower body on display and _Robin’s_ to play with. But all he notes is how much lighter he feels, finally getting used to the alternating rhythm of two different dancers.

“I thought you liked unnecessarily prolonging things?” Robin remarks, breathless, the slightest bit of hunger lacing his tone - an indicator that he’s not unaffected how Akira shudders under his ministrations. 

Akira wishes he could see him too, the broad chest that’s probably heaving half the tempo as his, but he needs to regain his own vision first – it's out of focus, overwhelmed by both of their natures clashing.

_Over him._

The realization rips another whine out of Akira’s throat, more desperate than the others.

God, it shouldn't feel this good, the amount of attention on him, but the sharp desire overpowers his guilt. 

Extends a hand into a spiral of madness Akira's more and more tempted to take.

Loki and Robin still at the sound before the former starts to trail his hands down Akira’s body with renewed fervor, settling around his waist possessively, able to grip so much skin that pre-cum leaks out of Akira’s achingly hard cock.

“I definitely won’t prolong _your_ pathetic life span if you don’t pick up the pace,” Loki hisses next to his ear towards Robin, fingers flexing. Impatient, vicious, embodying what Akira's always craved. “Or should I do it myself?”

Robin’s bright aura flickers a little before settling into something firmer, confident.

“I finger him better than you,” Robin remarks, and it sounds so natural like they've already fucked him before. 

Akira can’t really wrap his head around it. He finds that he doesn’t care too much either way.

Maybe they’ve already existed in a different part of this palace. Maybe Maruki thinks Akechi had Akira underneath him in the same manner before, hate and betrayal stirring feverish passion instead in what surely would have been a paradox.

Maybe Akechi gets to have two Akiras to fuck as well.

Robin pulls down Akira’s underwear in one swift motion, and something cool at his entrance makes Akira quiver, pulling him out of his thoughts back towards the situation at hand. 

“So what?” Loki huffs. His chest rumbles underneath Akira's cheek. “Kitten screams louder if it’d eat him out anyway.”

Images flood Akira’s mind at the offhand comment. His face buried into a damp pillow because he'd been biting into it, hand uselessly trying to find purchase against the sensation of something wet and slippery working its way inside. 

But maybe Loki wouldn’t slip his tongue right in given his sadistic nature, - he’d lick around the rim first, blow hot puffs of air on it to watch the tremble expand up to Akira’s spine where it'd be so much more visible in that position, or maybe he’d handle it entirely _differently_ and pull Akira over to sit on his face, two hands gripping his cheeks, plunging his tongue deep inside an awaiting hole while he’d encourage Akira to ride himself to completion and just _take what he wants_ –

Akira moans and comes back to a wet finger already working itself into him, gently driving along his inner walls. Scraping, scratching, curling, bliss. 

The little clothing Akira still has on is suddenly unbearably _hot,_ sticking to his skin like a second later. He wants to shed it, wants to shed _their_ clothing, press their bodies as close as physically possible to chase the delirious warmth to succumb to it. 

Loki aligns their faces again. Hunger unfolds on his face, unraveling like midnight bloom, so graspable and _his_ that Akira bite his lip to suppress a needy sound.

Dark eyes are instantly drawn to that motion, and the grip around his waist tightens, sure to leave bruises Akira would love to wear.

_Marks._

He wants to be marked up, wants to remember and drown in guilty pleasure each and every time. 

“Do you like that notion?" Loki huskily says, cupping Ren's chin with a satisfied grin. "Me reducing you to a mess with nothing but my tongue?”

Akira only manages half a frantic nod before Loki’s kissing him with swollen and red lips, devouring any other sound that might escape. Loki briefly pulls back after he's succeeded in stealing every breath, every little whine and mewl for the moment. 

“Oh, I promise I’ll do that. Next time, kitten. I’ll have you screaming my name before I even think about giving you my cock.”

“Would we even fit inside? Such a narrow waist,” Robin states, casually. Like he's not sloshing around waves of molten fire inside of Akira’s stomach with each deliberate curl of his finger, and rather inquiring about trivial things like the weather. “I’m almost afraid we’d break him.”

The sentence punches a high, guttural sound out of Akira’s throat. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” he gasps a second later before his foggy coherency can filter his thoughts, though the words are distorted with how rapidly Loki's claimed his mouth in an open display of want. 

Loki growls, and Akira knows he still caught his words with how harshly Loki bites his bottom lip next. Small bolts of lightning race towards his groin, chasing each other, reminding Akira of the fingers working him open, preparing him for something that would sate his thirst.

For now though he is bound to their pace, and Akira can only whine as Loki separates their mouths after giving a few apologetic licks, a thin proof of their kisses hanging like a bridge of silk between them.

“Kitten,” Loki croons, brushing damp bangs out of Akira's face. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Akira watches the line of saliva shake with each of his moves, and wonders if his hole is glistening the same way – some sort of cognitive lube splayed across it, _worked_ inside of him by Robin, the unoccupied hand of the person behind him grazing the swell of his ass, occasionally brushing his aching cock that perks with too much pent up frustration.

Akira gives a low whimper, wanting to feel Loki on him again. The other understands because there's a hand now cradling his cheek, and Akira nuzzles into it, on the verge of purring at receiving so much attention he doesn't deserve.

"You do," Robin says, as if reading his mind. 

Any sound Akira was about to make quickly turns into a series of breathless pants because two fingers are exploring his insides now, reducing Akira’s thoughts to mush even further, filling his mind with a swamp of sin and heat and beckoning desire. 

Akira doesn't know what kind of face he's making, but it must be _something_ because Loki’s smirk grows wider, unhinged as eyes flicker into focus.

“When you look at me like that, it makes me want to do all kinds of _things_ to you.”

Loki lifts their upper bodies in order to scoot further into the middle of the bed, leaving Akira with Robin and forcing him to prop himself up on his hands instead of his elbows. It causes the fingers in him to rub in a different angle, almost brushing something that Akira knows will match his vision with the colors of the room.

He tries to wriggle back, take Robin’s finger deeper inside of him to chase more of those heated sparks, but a firm hand on his hips ceases his motions and Akira groans in defeat. He opts to lift his head instead, looking over his shoulder with hooded, blurry eyes.

Standing behind him, Robin’s an entirely different vision himself – bangs lightly plastered onto his face, droplets of sweat occasionally running down the angular curves. Robin’s gaze isn’t as dark as Loki’s, but it’s equally hungry, streaked with hints of adoration and fondness that turns the heat inside Akira into something distinctively mellow without losing intensity or purpose – _dangerous territory._

Terribly tempting. 

“Come here, kitten.”

Loki’s call has him instinctively turn his head again.

And where Akira's stomach already did funny things when confronted with how Robin looked like on the verge of breaking out of his control, Loki has used that time to unbutton his striped suit – and Akira doesn’t know where to _look,_ to concentrate on glistening definition of muscle heaving with every breath that evoke the need in Akira to stick his tongue out, or the proud and tall erection Loki’s leisurely stroking like he has all the time of the world.

Like he can _give_ Akira the seconds and minutes and hours he needs to savor every bit of this moment. 

As if to get Akira’s attention back, Robin harshly digs his fingers into what must be his prostate next – it’s entirely unexpected, the shuddering wave of pleasure briefly, blissfully raking through his body, and Akira moans brokenly, almost crumbles in on himself as his cock twitches, _so damn close to the edge._

He’s glad that Robin only grazed that spot _once_ as a warning, back to almost lazily dragging around his rim, because Akira’s sure he almost came from that alone. And what a debauched sight that would have been, cumming from kissing and some preparation only. 

Akira whines when wet fingers leave his entrance, leaving him terribly empty.

“Go towards him, love,” Robin soothingly says, referring to Loki.

Obeying comes easy.

Akira moves to make space for Robin, and the bed dips slightly when said male settles behind him.

Akira's feeling entirely too cold – there’s _no one_ touching him now, no finger in his hair, no palm soothingly rubbing across his lower back – he wants to lean into Loki again, connect their lips, or maybe lower himself to lick up the beads of pre-cum glistening on top of Loki’s cock, looking more inviting than anything else.

He’s unable to do so when hands settle on his hips and Akira’s suddenly pulled _back,_ away from Loki, causing him to lose balance and fall onto his forearms. Something hot and hard rubs against the cleft of his ass next, teasingly prodding at the entrance in teasing, torturous motions.

_Robin._

Akira can’t see Loki, not when his cheek is pressing against the sheets and he sees an endless amount of white spanning before him, but it’s not necessary for him to _hear_ the scowl edged in Loki’s voice like red shrapnel of envy. 

“Who said you were going to get him first?”

“I prepped him,” Robin says, his own brand of possessiveness bleeding through with how he’s pronouncing _I._

As if to prove a point he pulls Akira just a little closer towards him. The manhandling makes Akira moan and his cock twitch – he’s probably leaking at this point, a steady trail of milky white dripping onto the sheets.

He wants to touch himself so badly, finally dive into the release that’s been dangling in front of him for a while now, but he’s lost feel in most of his limbs except those that _need_ to be stimulated and Akira can only press his face harder into the bed, hoping they find mercy within themselves. 

Loki snorts. “Yeah. You prepped him for _me._ ”

“You’re insufferable,” Robin remarks, unimpressed, never ceasing his rutting motions.

“I’m _better.”_

“Please,” Akira whines.

He doesn’t care who fucks him first, but he’s burning up so much at this point that he needs _something_ inside of him or he'll do it himself despite knowing it’ll be unsatisfactory. 

Loki grumbles, and Akira hears him closing in a little. Fingers entangle in his hair.

“Fine. You have a go while kitten sucks me off. I’ll fuck you out of him anyway.”

Robin snorts. “We’ll see.”

Loki lifts Akira's head by his curls – and he’s so _close_ now, almost face to face with Loki’s hard and flushed cock that looks frighteningly large up close. Entranced by the musky scent filling his nostrils and the almost primal urge to lick across a prominent vein, Akira tries to prop himself up to do exactly that, but Loki simply pushes his shoulders down the exact same moment Robin applies pressure on his hips so he’s flat on his belly.

“Don’t want you having to strain your neck too much,” Loki explains before Akira can let out a stuttered laugh at their questionable teamwork.

Fingers grasp black strands just a little lighter, encouraging Akira to stick his tongue out.

And he _wants._ He's been so selfish, only receiving, so of course Akira needs to give something back, prove himself worthy.

He licks a fat stripe from the bottom to the top, almost having to tilt his head entirely in his position – it tastes mostly like skin with an underlying note of sweat, of _Goro,_ but the sound Loki makes in response is what sends a rush of power through Akira, encouraging him. 

Akira grips Loki’s thighs, digging his fingers into the simultaneously hard and soft flesh and lifts his head just enough to get the tip of Loki’s cock in his mouth. He lowers his head right after, gulping around the hot and pulsating flesh, taking it deeper and deeper and as far as he can go before his eyes tear up. 

“Fuck,” Loki practically hisses, his other hand joining the one holding Akira’s head in place, almost making him choke. “So good, kitten. You’re doing so fucking good.”

The praise is beyond gratifying. It fills Akira with a tingling warmth that encases all of his mind in an additional layer, making him feel dazed, so distracted along with the heaviness in his mouth that Akira only registers Robin’s cock is working him open the moment it’s fully sheathed inside of him.

He moans around Loki’s cock, feels his thigh and arms and everything quiver as two different heats pulsate in two different ways in him.

Akira tries to move his mouth, but he only manages to lap at what he can reach with his tongue, occasionally sending vibrations in the form of moans along Loki’s cock when Robin begins to set a slow, but hard pace, taking most of his attention away.

The snap of Robin's hips is calculated, precise, feeling like he’s _hammering_ something inside of him so strongly that Akira realizes he doesn’t _need_ to move his mouth for him to take in Loki impossibly deeper with each thrust.

It's heavenly - being stretched open on both fronts, _used_ for mindless pleasure. 

And Akira’s throat convulses at some point because he’s never done this before and it’s too much. 

His lungs begin to constrict, blackness bending his vision to distorted lengths, but Loki growls a quick command and it’s like his entire body _obeys_ and _relaxes_ and Akira’s finally able to breathe through his nose in the last moment, preventing him from throwing up, maybe even passing out on the cock filling so much _space_ inside of him.

“F-fuck,” Loki moans raggedly above him, the sound mixing with Robin’s grunts. “You’re doing so well. So fucking perfect for us.”

Akira’s tears don’t spill, but they form, shaking with the intensity of Robin’s thrusts as he carves his path throughout Akira’s inside, having found his prostate long ago. 

The only reason Akira doesn’t let out sounds bordering on obscene howls is because of Loki’s cock plugging up his entire mouth, and everything that gets coaxed out is converted straight into Loki’s pleasure, making him curse and fist and grip and praise.

Akira doesn’t know how much time passes, but Loki’s pulled him off and Akira’s flushed face is left to rock against the space between Loki’s thigh and cock, the hard length dragging across his cheek.

Loki’s murmuring filthy praise, and then Robin’s hip snap particularly hard while he’s dragging Akira backwards, driving his cock impossibly deep and _spilling_ – Akira’s own length, squished between sheets and stomach to a point where it’s almost painful, twitches hard, and riptides of pleasure wreck Akira in the next second as he comes undone.

Akira swims in heady space for a few, precious moments.

He doesn’t really know where his limbs are, not when they’re still so numb from all the bliss taking hold of his body.

His brain is coming down fast and slow at the same time from its height, but the drag of sheets across Akira's skin makes him think Loki or Robin or both have already recovered and are moving him into a different position for... more. 

Swollen lips meet his raw ones. Akira makes a sound that’s foreign to his own ears, tilting his head into the surprisingly soft touch.

“Such a beautiful kitten,” Loki croons.

It’s unfair how put together he looks in contrast to how debauched Akira already feels, trickles of cum seeping out from his hole. “So pliant after some teasing and one fuck.”

“More than we could hope to call our own,” Robin murmurs from behind him, driving a hand – glove free – through his hair, too. The sensation is so _nice,_ the calm, gentle drags of fingers across his scalp prolonging the sweet ambrosia sweetening his blood. 

Akira’s upper body is lifted – onto two thighs, he thinks, and now Robin is hovering above him upside down, curtain of hair shielding his face from the outside world, watching Akira so _fondly_ that Akira melts further, wants Robin to take him to the exact place his eyes are telling him about. 

And only then Akira realizes in what position he’s in – on his back, legs obscenely spread with Loki kneeling between them, a lined up cock already stretching him again.

Akira claws at the bed sheets and trashes at the sudden intrusion. Sounds of protest spill past his lips, but they go unacknowledged.

“You’re doing so well,” Robin praises.

Akira clings onto it like a lifeline, squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to get completely overwhelmed and swept away into nothingness.

Loki lifts one of Akira’s legs the moment he bottoms out, and Robin takes it from him, easily pressing down until the knee firmly rests on Akira’s shoulder. “You can take it, don’t you?”

Akira doesn’t think he can, but he somehow _does._ As Loki pounds into him – sloppier, less precise, but so much faster, taking like he’s never been given anything in his life – Robin relinquishes his hold on Akira’s sweaty bangs to trail his hands down towards his chest.

As if wanting to distract him from Loki fucking the cum out of Akira, Robin’s fingers circle Akira’s nipples.

And Akira didn’t realize they’ve grown so _sensitive,_ rubbed raw and red from when he’d been forced to grind chest onward into Loki’s touch that his back arches like something struck him the moment Robin _pinches._

Akira's left to writhe under their ministrations. His toes curl, and the pain and pleasure swirls so distinctively yet intangible around him that Akira can’t differentiate anything, taking what he's being given.

“P-please," Akira chants. "Nghhh- _please-_ ”

“Fuck,” Loki growls, gripping his hips tighter as if he wants to override the marks Robin left on him. “Do that again. Kitten clenches so goddamn hard.”

Robin digs his nails into Akira's buds - when did he take his gloves off? - and something _lifts_ around Akira.

The last fantasy is ripped from him, and then it doesn’t just feel sinfully _good_ anymore.

Loki’s thrusts leave their own kind of brand, Robin toys with his chest to his heart's content and it feels more than Akira could hope to articulate aside from hoarse screams.

His entire body vibrates with life and pleasure at being taken apart so thoroughly in front of Loki and Robin, and he _sees_ the love in their eyes, that they care, that they want to see _him_ in all of his individual parts to gently mold him back together.

So Akira lets himself go, tipping over the edge once more.

He’s half afloat by the time Loki comes, spilling into him like Robin did who has leaned down to connect their lips in a lazy dance once more.

As his chest heaves and his mind scrambles for anything that isn't pleasure, Akira knows they’re not finished.

It’s not in their nature.

No matter how much their earlier banter seemed like play - Robin won’t be satisfied with Loki being the last one to have entered Akira, and the same applies in reverse.

There’s only one solution to that.

For a brief moment, Akira fears they’ll push him past his limits. Take his body in the peak of its vulnerability, sink into him once more with a passion that would cause him to break beyond return.

Shards scattered aside, not blown into the wind, but roughly crushed beneath the heel of an unforgiving booth until there'd be nothing left to salvage.

Akira wonders why he allowed that notion to enter his head in the first place because Loki shuffles to his side, Robin settling to his other unoccupied one, and both embrace him with a lazy tenderness that the poison of lingering doubts dissipate as quickly as it appeared.

They don’t touch his spent cock or entrance.

They kiss and lavish him with attention, gently gliding their fingers across the heated planes of his skin, murmuring sweet words and encouragement into his throat or jaw that Akira tries his best to return.

Because it hurts, given so much without seemingly expecting anything in return, so Akira tries to reciprocate as best as he can. 

In midst of their rivalry, they match for the first time, Loki being gentler, Robin being a bit rougher, and maybe they don’t match and the sensations have long messed up his mind to the point where he can't properly take everything in but Akira doesn’t care, kisses back whoever claims his mouth for the moment, entangles his legs with both of them.

They calm him down while maintaining the embers still lying around them, waiting to be ignited, and Akira feels… loved.

It's wrong in every sense of the words, but Akira's tired, so goddamn tired that he closes his eyes and listens to the melody of breath on skin and heartbeats and blood thrumming. 

The heat from earlier isn’t gone, not completely, not when Akira feels their hard lengths rubbing into his sides at times – but the only part of Akira that’s always been empty, that only grew stronger with each rejection, each time a flicker of cold maroon would reprimand him is finally starting to feel less.

Not simply pushed back into his subconsciousness until he can’t find it anymore.

No, it’s being _filled_ as Loki sucks marks onto his throat, Robin nuzzling into his hair, fingers drawing idle patterns on the side of his waist, as if he’s content with feeling the bruises he left on Akira. 

This is so much more than he hoped to have.

Maybe Akira's selfish, wanting this to himself. 

But maybe he also deserves it, if only a little.

And the warmth and coziness Akira swims in grows sharp again. Takes on a distinctive shape, curls around his throat like an offer of temptation.

He only needs to whine for them to arrange themselves in a new position – Akira half seated in Robin’s lap, Loki behind him.

“Good?” Robin murmurs against his temple and Akira nods, hides his head in the crook of Robin’s neck, looping his weak arms around him while breathing in his smell. 

“Y-yeah. You can- _ahh_ , start.”

The stretch is familiar by now.

Akira’s already been fucked twice, so the pain is mostly gone and it just feels good, having Robin so deeply inside of him, coercing his walls to flutter with appreciation. Robin gently rocks him up and down, but Loki is impatient, soon enough beginning to slip a finger inside – but for whatever reason, one that might belong to the snowy state of the room it barely hurts, only encourages the buzz of pleasure thrumming in his ears. 

Akira only clenches around it. It rips a moan out of the three of them. 

Loki only manages another finger before he growls impatiently, voice dripping with just barely restrained desire.

“Can’t wait,” he growls, and then another tip lines up.

As he’s pushing inside in an agonizingly slow pace, working him open, flickers of doubt make Akira’s breath catch.

He already feels so full– they’re big, they’re not going to _fit, how are they-_ Robin alone is already stretching him out so much, but Loki lets out a sound that causes Akira to let out a pathetic whimper and then another cock works its way inside of Akira and he stops thinking.

It’s almost an out of body experience, if not for the fact that Akira can feel every inch of them, pulsating flesh meeting its own.

What’s previously been a wild mix of sensations begins to seamlessly blend together. An endless loop, feeding into itself.

Edges blur and disappear, two, maybe three puzzle pieces that were previously clicked into place melting into each other so that no one can tell them apart. 

“Our Kitten,” Loki gasps.

“Made for us,” Robin airily agrees.

“Y-yours,” Akira sobs, fully enraptured, chasing a pleasure beyond his own.

He doesn’t realize how much he’s holding onto Robin for his dear life until Loki pushes him forward, clearly not liking the way Akira clings to his counterpart so intimately without including him. 

It tips the whole constellation – Akira’s now almost laying flat over Robin, their bodies rubbing together. Robin keeps a tight grip on his thighs. He fucks up into Akira with powerful, strong thrusts, holding him in place so Akira doesn’t get pushed off by the force of combined, rhythmic pounds.

Loki himself is drilling inside of him from behind, relentlessly gripping at his waist and hips as if he can’t decide which one is better to grab, more vulnerable to the imprint of strong fingers.

The pressure in Akira’s lower body is something he knows too well by now. His throat is raw, so used and broken and yet Akira manages to get a plea out in the waves of pleasure filling him from the inside out.

“Please,” he begs. “Please. I want to cum. I need to cum, please, let me, _please._ ”

“Another minute,” Robin groans into his ear, so close, so warm, so full. “Can you do that, love? Can you be good for us one last time?”

Akira deliriously nods.

They increase their speed and the strength of their hold that Akira feels like he's simultaneously tearing apart and kept together. Akira doesn’t register when a last scream is ripped out of his throat, when he cums, when they cum inside of him, marking the deepest parts of his body with hoarse screams of his name. 

Akira to fall endlessly, into a vision of white numbness. 

Though Loki catches him.

Or Robin.

He doesn't know, doesn’t care, not now. 

“You did so well, love. Taking both of us at the same time.”

“We’ll show-”

“So pretty, so beautiful.”

“-you that we’re worth the entire world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lol I swear most of my porn ends the same way: Akira gets the noise fucked out of his head and blacks out nghgh. I promise I have a bit of a variety in the topgoro series as well, haha TwT
> 
> This might also get a sequel for the second topgoro week that might get established because I'm shameless. I also hope this didn't feel weird because I started so angsty when I just wanted two Akechis to fuck Akira?? Ahh please let me know what you thought.
> 
> [My (mostly) Akeshu twitter!](https://twitter.com/voraciousTash)


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